


fifteen, i'm alright with you

by brahe



Series: caught between ten and twenty [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (hahahaha no I won't), Bon Jovi - Freeform, Chinese Food, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Gymnastics, High School, Movie Night, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, RadioShack, Robotics, School Sports, Sensory Overload, Teenage Drama, aunt may just wants her dorky spider son to be happy, car karaoke, do they even exist anymore?, gratuitous references to things I enjoy, idk - Freeform, maybe I'll post something on this website at a decent hour once in my life, ned leeds for friend of the year 2kforever, sort of, teen angst™, teeny tiny angst, they do here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 16:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: Somewhere between Chinese takeout and robotics competitions, Peter deals with cabin fever of the crime-fighting variety and the ceiling not actually coming down on his head - and continues to search for the answer to what it means to be fifteen.





	fifteen, i'm alright with you

**Author's Note:**

> So I totally didn't mean to even write anything for this movie, let alone two things, so whoops  
> This one took way longer than the first one bc I rewrote the second part like fourteen times  
> The first one is mostly fluff, the second one panic attack/claustrophobia, and the third gymnastics and sensory overload.  
> Anyway, enjoy! There's lots of references to bands and movies in this and I tried super hard to get teenage life™ accurately portrayed for a super spider 
> 
> Maybe someday I'll be able to write summaries. 
> 
> Not beta read, as usual, etc, etc

1.

Tuesdays always seem to pass the slowest, Peter muses, as he's trying to keep himself awake in Spanish. Lately he's been getting it mixed up with Italian, and while his teacher mostly just laughs at him, it's frustrating.

There's a test next week, and they're reviewing the last vocabulary section all period. Peter answers enough to count as paying attention, but he spends most period doodling little spiders along the margins of his paper.

Math goes by even slower, and he can barely bring himself to enjoy the prep work for their experiment tomorrow in chemistry. He feels Ned's increasingly worried glances on him throughout the day, and as he settles in to wait for May to pick him up at 2:45, Ned sits down next to him.

"What's going on?" he asks, side eyeing Peter. "Bug problem?" he adds, almost hesitant.

Peter winces. "We need to keep working on that," he says, and Ned nods his agreement.

"Volunteering? You could always tell everyone that you got the Stark Internship back."

Peter shrugs. "No one believed me in the first place."

"Yeah, but not everyone knows you 'lost' it," Ned says. Peter sighs, lets his head fall back against the side of the building.

"I guess."

They lapse into silence for several minutes as the number of kids on the curb dwindles. May always comes late to avoid the traffic, and Ned's coming back with them today to work on their English essays.

"Are you gonna tell me what's really going on?" Ned asks, and Peter sighs again. He can feel Ned looking at him, now, critically. "I'm your guy in the chair. Your first backup. You gotta tell me what's going on."

When Peter says nothing, Ned continues. "Is there some new thing you're trying to figure out? A new bad guy?" 

Peter rolls his head to look at Ned, then.

"That's just it," he says. "There's nothing happening. The last two weeks, I've only stopped a home break-in and a car jacking!" 

And it sounds a little insensitive now that he's said it out loud, but it doesn't change the way he feels.

"It's not like I _want_ there to be powerful criminals on the loose," he sighs. "I'm just getting bored."

Ned looks away, and Peter can tell he's thinking of solutions. 

"We could sign up for that robotics competition," Ned suggests. "The deadline is in a couple weeks. We could totally make that."

Peter shrugs. "Yeah, maybe." 

May pulls up, then, and the conversation is over. They pick up Chinese on the way back to the apartment, and May turns the radio up loud when Bon Jovi comes on. Peter's yelling the words to _Runaway_ with May, strumming an air guitar and waving his hair around, and Ned's laughing his ass off in the back seat, videotaping the whole thing to send to MJ because this is the kind of quality ~~blackmail~~  content she enjoys.

The radio DJ follows that up with _Drive_ , and May makes a show of serenading Peter in the passenger seat at every red light they hit. And then it's Rupert Holmes and all three of them are yelling about piña coladas and getting caught in the rain - and it's ridiculous, it's off-key and shouted more than sung, but the rest of the world fades away and Peter feels like a regular teenager, singing along to classic hits in his aunt's car with his best friend in the back seat.

 

They carry the good mood and the Chinese takeout with them up to the apartment, and Peter isn't thinking about someone waiting for them when they flick the lights on, or how he's gonna let May down again and worry her sick by skipping out early and staying out too late. He's in the moment - really, he is - and it feels a little weird, to not worry about every sound from the street below, to not have his senses expended in a three block radius.

 

"I think it's time for a movie," May says, and Ned agrees, suggesting a comedy.

"I didn't realize you boys watched anything that wasn't done by George Lucas or Steven Spielberg," May says, and Peter gives her a sarcastic laugh.

"Do a college movie," Ned adds. May lights up.

"I love those! There's some good ones on the top shelf above the TV," she tells Peter, who jumps up and sticks himself to the ceiling before making his way to the living room. May and Ned pause in clearing off the table, watching him for a moment.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to that," May says, mostly to herself, and then they're putting leftovers in the fridge and loading the silverware into the dishwasher. 

 

It doesn't come back to him until it's late, the moon halfway to setting, and he's settling on the edge of the apartment building, the city sprawling before him, full of lights and sound. He's still carrying something _light_ , something that shows up when he forgets the weight on his shoulders, forgets the sounds of a bank robbery or gun shots in an alley. Forgets that he's not a typical fifteen year old, forgets that a normal life with late-night comedy marathons and leftover takeout isn't _his_.

That's not what's bothering him, tonight, not really. It's the silence, the weeks-long silence, pressing down on him like concrete, like noise from a theme park. It's an itch in his bones, seeping into his skin, keeping him up at night thinking about everything he's _not_ doing, even though there's no one to stop.

He returns to his bed just before the sky starts to turn less black, and before he falls asleep, he thinks about the lack of nightly activity, and how it should make him feel better, successful, _safe_ , but just makes him feel useless and edgy. 

 

 

2.

He's making himself a bagel, watching the clock and hoping he'll have time to butter it, when May comes out of her room, dressed for the day, and sets about making herself a second cup of coffee.

She sips it as she watches Peter moving around the kitchen, raises an eyebrow when he catches himself from slipping by sticking his hand to the cabinet.

"Have you ever thought about a gymnastics class?" she asks.

Peter probably would have dropped the knife if he were anyone else.

"I, uh - is this because we watched _Fired Up_ last night?"

May laughs. "Maybe. But I'm being serious. I think you should consider it. You've always been good at tricks, and now you're just...extra good."

"Extra good, right," Peter says, laughing to himself. He shoves the last piece of bagel in his mouth, swings his backpack over his shoulder, and presses a kiss to May's cheek.

"See you after patrol!" he says, because he can say things like that now, because it's been a surprisingly easy ( _too easy_ ) adjustment to May knowing about the Spider-Man.

"I'm serious, Peter! Think about it!"

"I will!" he shouts from the door. "Love you, bye!"

 

Peter's sure Ned noticed something earlier in the day, could tell by the way Ned kept glancing towards him the way he does sometimes when he's _not_ thinking _holy shit my best friend is spiderman_ and instead thinking something along the lines of _what isn't Peter telling me this time_.

It's not till lunch, though, that Ned brings it up.

"Hey, man," he says, sliding into the seat to Peter's right. "You gonna tell me what's going on?" 

That's become an almost regular question between the two of them, and for a moment Peter feels bad that he even feels the need to hide things from Ned, but then he remembers how a ceiling feels when it's pushing you into the ground, and how it sometimes makes him sick that he wants there to be a bad guy to fight.

Peter shrugs. "Same thing as last time, mostly," he said. No point in going into detail - it's hard enough as it is to explain the feeling to himself. It's not quite a hobby, but not quite an addiction, some bigger cause he's dedicated himself to. A part of him wonders if he's dedicated _too_ much of himself to it. He shakes his head. "Speaking of which, are we still going to that parts store today?"

Ned nods. "Hell yeah! I got the sheet of what we need in my bag."

They're quiet for a while after that, and as Peter observes the cafeteria, he finds himself actually thinking about May's proposal that morning.

"Hey Ned," he says, "do you know anything about the gymnastics team?"

"Um," Ned says around a mouthful of genuine Queens sub. "No?"

"There's a junior running it this year. They meet on Mondays and Thursdays." MJ closes her book and sets it on the table, turns a critical eye to Peter instead. "Why?"

Peter shrugs. "Just something May said this morning. That I should try out."

Ned swallows. "Gotta risk it to get the biscuit," he says, grinning by the end, and Peter should have seen this coming.

"Why not?" MJ says, sparing a short, furrowed brow look to Ned, who's still side eying Peter, silent laughter scrinching his eyes at the corners.

 

He's late to meet Ned in the library - it happens to be a Thursday, and he's always been impulsive. When he falls into the seat across the table from Ned, he's a little bit out of breath and a lot bit happier than he's been lately. Ned looks him over.

"Did you make the team?" he asks. Peter grins, and he feels so _happy_ , even as he's half panting because his tryout routine was on _fire_ but a little more condensed than his usual tricks.

"Did I make the team," Peter scoffs, and Ned's grinning, now, too. "Hell yeah I made the team." 

Ned reaches across the table and their customary handshake echos slightly off the walls of the corner they're in. Peter picks up the paper from in front of Ned, scans over the list.

"Let's build a robot." 

 

They scoured the old parts store for anything remotely useful ( _Come on, Peter, our robot totally needs a flamethrower),_  and now they're crowded into a small back aisle at the RadioShack sorting through circuit boards because Ned is _so picky_.

"Look, Ned, they'll all work fine," Peter says. He's holding three different kinds, and while he knows the basics, Ned is much more into this specific part. It's what makes them a good team, really.

"No, no," Ned shakes his head, putting two boards back in their respective places. He takes one out of Peter's hand, compares it to the three he had laid out on the floor. "It's gotta be perfect. We're trying to win, remember?" He's not even really paying attention to Peter at this point, rambling only because he's already started. "I'll let you handle all the physics, and maybe the design, but just let me do the circuitry, okay? And also probably the coding because that didn't go well that one time..."

Peter settles in, turns Ned's words into waves washing over his consciousness as he leans his head back against the shelf and closes his eyes. It's relatively quiet in the shop, most folks coming in for a particular item and leaving shortly after, and it's a rather soothing change to the near constant noise he faces in school, in the city. 

 

It's soothing until it isn't. He blinks, and maybe he fell asleep, because he feels sluggish, like lead's been poured into his bones, and the walls around him are slowly getting closer, coming in around him, on top of him. He thinks he can hear the strain in the concrete, in the metal, and when he looks up he sees the roof sagging, sagging, and breaking, falling down in pieces around him. 

He curls his hands around his neck, hides his face between his knees and shuts his eyes, squeezes them as tight as he can, but it does nothing to prevent the feeling of _closing_ , _trapped_ that presses in on his mind from all directions.

And then suddenly he's shaking, _being_  shook - behind his eyelids he can see the building around him wobbling as it crashes down.

"...eter! Peter!" 

His eyes flutter open and Ned fills his field of view, panic creasing his face and shadowing his gaze. "Peter?" It's much quieter this time, soft and hesitant and terrified. Peter takes a breath that shakes like the building was, isn't.

"I'm," he says, voice getting stuck on the dryness in his throat. "I'm okay. I'm good." He nods briefly, as if confirming to himself as well that the RadioShack isn't coming down on top of him.

"It's okay if you're not," Ned says, and he's still hesitant, sitting back on his ankles and watching Peter carefully. A part of Peter's mind brings forward a piece of a conversation, a voice like Ned's telling him that he's read some things online about getting by, in an after.

"Yeah," Peter says, breathes.

"I think it's claustrophobia," Ned tells him. He's still looking at Peter like that, calculating and concerned. 

"Yeah," Peter says again. He's regaining control over his lungs, stops seeing pieces of cement falling from the sky, covering the ground around him.

"Come on," Ned says, hauling up both their bags and offering a hand to Peter. "We should go outside."

Peter's shaky on his legs, but he stands in the sunlight when they're out on the street, tilts his head up. There's nothing over his head here except a big open sky, and there's nothing around him except skyscrapers across the street. It's like going outside for the first time after a long winter, sun seeping into his bones, turning the insides of his eyes a bright red. 

He remembers Ned, then, and looks at him, emotions a convoluted mess. There's gratitude, the ever-present thanks that somehow he ended up with a friend like Ned Leeds, but there's something else. Ned nods, jerks his head towards the buildings opposite the road.

"Go ahead. I'll wait here." 

And that's it, that's the feeling - the need to be higher, _freer_ , weighing on him, warring with the guilt of leaving Ned after his help.

But it calls to him like crimefighting and the right thing, and he's swinging up the side of a Rand corporate building until he's standing at the top, the sun-warmed concrete radiating up against his skin. He looks around, breathes until any lingering ache is gone, a memory, distant as he can make it, and he stores this away, tucks this feeling of openness, freedom, into his mind to remember later, when the walls come in around him and the ceiling threatens to fall. 

 

 

3.

The gymnasium is loud. Sounds echo around the roof, bouncing off beams and exposed rigging, coming back down to hit linoleum and ricochet across the walls.

He keeps his headphones in during individual workout, Imagine Dragons blaring loudly enough to drown out the bangs and screeches of exercise machines and sneakers in a gym. The burn of the rowing machine feels good, and solid weights are almost comforting in his hands. It's working out like Peter's never done before, and it's brilliant.

And then it's group cardio and his headphones are wrapped around his phone, the coach's yelling already sounding three times too loud.

They start with a basic warm up, simple in-place exercises on the mats. Bare feet hitting the plastic covering creates a rhythmic thud, and Peter's used to it, handling it, just as the coach switches on the radio.

It's _blaring_ , like sirens _inside_  his head, volume twenty times too much, and he stumbles, clutches at the side of his head in an attempt to make it go away.

He ends up face first in the mat, wondering when sound became such a problem for him, and then there's soft hands under his arm, rolling him over and hauling him up, and it's MJ, of course it is, beautiful, perfect, understanding MJ corralling him towards the locker room before she thinks better of it and pushes him into the gym teacher's office, pulling the door shut behind her.

It's like going underwater, sound suddenly dulling in instant relief, and he falls into the nearest chair, breathing heavy, trying to get his thoughts back in order now that he can actually hear them.

He looks to MJ. "Thanks," he says, and he's only half surprised at the way it sounds like a raspy whisper. She shrugs.

"I get it," she tells him, equally soft, and he couldn't be more in love with her if he tried.

_Woah, there's a thought_.

"Is it related to the spider thing?" she asks. Peter tries his hardest not to flinch - he needs to let people in, has been doing so, but it's still such a contrast to talk about it so easily.

"Um, yeah," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "S'why I usually wear my headphones." 

MJ nods, saying nothing. Peter lets his eyes close and his head fall against the desk where he's crossed his arms.

"How bad is it?" he asks.

"Not," MJ says. "You sort of collapsed, but no one knows why. You could say dehydration if you wanted, or something."

Peter nods against his arms, and takes a deep breath.

"It's all the new sounds," he says, getting up. "Once I know what to expect, once I'm used to it, it's easier to deal with."

"Kinda like a dog," MJ says. Peter sputters, glares at her in indignation, and the smile she gives him is easily the most sarcastic thing _and_ the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

" _Not_  like a dog," he says, but she's laughing, and it's such a nice sound, such a nice contrast to echoing, blaring music.

 

It's week two, and he lands the double back back flip into a walkover like it's nothing, barely remembering to stand up straight and send his arms back at the end instead of crouching low with arms forward and aimed. He looks towards the group leader, a senior who's been at gymnastics since he was four years old, and he's grinning, almost jumping in excitement.

"Peter! Holt shit! Where have you been, oh my God!"

Peter realizes, then, that he's supposed to be a novice, that regular people in their second week of gymnastics training can hardly do more than a handstand.

"Uh," he says, looks around, halfway to panicked. He's scrambling to come up with an excuse, something to explain how all of this is as easy to him as breathing. 

"You're so good!" Carson is still freaking out, and the rest of the small group have come closer, too.

"Definitely a natural," Ava agrees. "You should try some other tricks," she adds, and Peter's confused.

"You're not...?" he tries, but there's nothing but excitement on the faces of those around him. So when someone calls for a roundoff back hand spring, he jumps into it best he can, and catches his crouch right before he falls into it.

"Awesome! Seriously, so much talent," Carson's saying. "Your form is kind of horrendous, but we can fix that. Especially when you can flip like that!"

None of them know, none of them can ever know, but it feels so _good_  to be able to let go here, to not have to hide his tendencies with them. He could hang off the bars for twenty minutes with no one batting an eye - he could flip three times into the ballpit without a second glance. It feels like standing on top of a skyscraper in the late afternoon, like jumping off a windowsill and swinging down the street, like another piece of himself finally falling into place, like another step on the road of trying to figure out what kind of teenager Peter Parker is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Total headcanon that Peter loves imagine dragons like idk that just seems like something he'd like. And he and may totally yell the words to all the songs in the car.  
> Also SUPER DUPER HEADCANON THat Peter does gymnastics bc this kid!??? can flip everywhere and he totally would love hanging out with other people who do it too and not having to pretend he doesn't wanna hang around upside down and get to places via back flips.  
> And yet another headcanon that ned is the super computer geeky one who could build an app in an afternoon or build a computer in a weekend, and Peter will literally never.shut.up about physics like he loves it so much, particle and mechanics and astro and just all the physics for Peter Parker 
> 
> And just to clarify the thing ned says "risk it to get the biscuit" is a recurring line in fired up, which everyone should watch because it's fucking hilarious


End file.
